He's back then?
I doubted he'd come if he wanted to." Then more steps between the hedges, and Martel himself turned the corner and came straight for the cottage.
He made as though he would go in without speaking to the others, but George Hamon planted himself in the doorway with a curt, "No, you don't!" "You refuse to let me into my own house ?" "Yes, I do." "By what right ?" "By this!" said Hamon, raising his fist.

"If you want any more of it you've only to say so.

You're outcast.

You've no rights here.

Get away!" "I claim my rights," said Martel through his teeth, and fell suddenly to his knees, and cried, "Haro! Haro! Haro! a l'aide mon prince! On me fait tort." The three men looked doubtfully at one another for a moment, for this old final appeal to a higher tribunal, in the name of Rollo, the first old Norseman Duke, dead though he was this nine hundred years, was still the law of the Islands and not to be infringed with impunity.
All the same, when the other sprang up and would have passed into the cottage, Hamon declined to move, and when Martel persisted, he struck at him with his fist, and it looked as though the fight were to be renewed.
"He makes Clameur, George," said Philip Tanquerel remonstratively.
"He may make fifty Clameurs for me.